


Wolf-lover

by Arabwel



Series: Of Wolves [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, And so is Stiles, Bestiality, Biting, Blood, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Full Shift Werewolves, Kinda, Knotting, M/M, Peter gets whammied, Rough Sex, Werewolf Hunters, Xeno, and Chris is thrown at him, are dicks, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunter holding the shotgun laughs. “A special mix we cooked up. A little wolfsbane, a little goat weed and damiana.” </p><p>Chris does not like the sound of that at all. “You fucking roofied him.” </p><p>“On the contrary, Argent, he’s not gonna lie there and take it. You are.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf-lover

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Wednesday in Hawai'i, happy Petopher Appreciation Week!
> 
> Thank you Alt, Charlotte & Mara for betaing!
> 
> More detail on the consent issues in the notes

“Take a good look at the mutt, Argent.” Crawford sneers as he pulls open the cell door to reveal a half-unconscious Peter Hale slumped against the back wall. 

Chris doesn’t struggle against the hold Crawford’s lackeys have on him; he knows he can’t break it without injury, and he needs to make sure Peter is okay. He’s surprised how steady his voice is when he speaks “What did you do to him?” 

The hunter holding the shotgun laughs. “A special mix we cooked up. A little wolfsbane, a little goat weed and damiana.” 

Chris does not like the sound of that at all. “You fucking roofied him.” 

“On the contrary, Argent, he’s not gonna lie there and take it. You are.” 

Unceremoniously, Chris is pushed into the cell, the shove on his back hard enough to rattle his teeth. 

“Since you’re such a wolf lover now, Argent, you’re gonna enjoy this one.” The words are accompanied by the clatter of the slot on the door, a small package being pushed through the bars. A fucking bottle of lube. 

“Wouldn’t want you to pass out from blood loss.” 

Chris has no illusions about what is going to happen. he knows Crawford’s man is good with chemicals, too good. Carefully, he crouches down to pick the tube off the ground before he turns to look at Peter, unwilling to startle the wolf. 

A low growl fills the room; Peter is slowly rising from where he’d slumped over, coming up in a crouch with blue eyes burning fever bright. He sways, and Chris can see the sheen of sweat upon his brow, the dried blood dotting his torn-up v-neck. 

“Peter,” he says softly, his heart hammering in his ears. He was hoping he could talk to Peter, see how strong the mixture was, if they could stave it off - Stilinski and Parrish were not far behind him, they should be coming in within the hour - but from the way Peter is scenting the air, he’s pretty sure he’s running out of time fast. 

Peter growls again and starts to crawl forward on all fours, sinuous and deadly even when drugged up to the gills. Chris swears under his breath and quickly starts to shuck off his jeans, not bothering with what’s left of his shirt. It’s been years since he’s done it last, but if he just gets a few moments to prep -

The wolf pounces when he's got his jeans halfway down his knees, driving into him and knocking him back against the steel door. 

Chris can hear the jeers from the other side, thinks there’s probably a camera in the cell too even as Peter pushes him down and crawls up his body, the constant low growl never easing. But at least there’s no fangs or claws - yet. 

Chris groans when the wolf buries his face in Chris‘ neck, snuffling wetly; deep, heavy sniffs that are more animal than man, followed by a rough tongue lapping against his skin where his blood pumps hot right beneath the skin. 

He can feel how hard Peter is through what’s left of Peter’s clothing, the hot brand of his cock rubbing against Chris’s stomach with intent. This close he can smell how hot for it Peter is, feel the tremors running through the strong arms pinning him down. 

As Peter seems to be content to scent him for now, Chris struggles to get his hand free, to get enough room to fumble with the lube and flip the cap open with an audible snick. The sound startles Peter and the wolf growls louder, sharp teeth nipping at Chris’ collarbone hard enough to bruise. 

Chris gasps, but he manages to hold on to the bottle, to get his fingers slick. He tries to move, tries to fit his hand between his body and the cold stone floor but Peter takes his squirming as encouragement, ruts against him harder and _whines_ against Chris’ skin. 

He can’t help it, that sound goes straight through him and Chris can feel the heat pooling at the base of his spine, can feel his cock twitch where it’s trapped between their bodies. He’s getting hard, and he knows it’s the last thing that should be happening, the last thing he wants Crawford to see. 

Peter pulls back and for a moment Chris thinks it’s clarity, that there’s a moment’s reprieve from the rut they've forced the wolf into, but instead of backing off, Peter just shimmies _down_ and buries his face in Chris’ crotch. 

Chris’ heart hammers in his throat as he watches Peter's shoulders flex with every deep breath he draws, the wolf’s mouth open wide, showing fangs. 

Fire sparks along his veins when Peter _licks_ at him, at the junction of his thigh, so close to Chris’ cock. He bites his lip to not to make a sound, tastes blood when Peter’s arm wraps around his hips and _yanks_ him closer. 

His position shifts enough that Chris can move his hand between his legs, can shove two slick fingers into his ass. It burns, but it’s gonna burn a lot worse if he doesn't have anything slicking the away and from the way Peter’s nostrils flare up and his growling intensifies, he’s not gonna get any help in that regard.

Chris can’t hold back the noise he makes when Peter suddenly lowers his head, cheek bumping against Chris’ hand. The wolf’s shoulders heave with another deep inhale and then that goddamn tongue is licking between Chris’ cheeks, saliva dripping down to coat his hand. 

“Dammit, Peter,” he groans, unable to hold back. “Just... Let me- “ 

Peter is heedless of his words, the low growl turning into a deep-set rumble in his chest as he keeps licking at Chris, his tongue rough and inhuman against the hunter's flesh. Chris can’t move his arm, can’t get the bottle again but this could be enough, should be enough - 

Chris swears when Peter’s tongue nudges inside, pushes his fingers up in an angle that has stars striking behind his eyes. 

The sound must excite Peter, as the wolf pulls back and growls, sharp teeth nipping at Chris thigh, so close to the artery it should make Chris break out in cold sweat but instead it just makes his cock throb harder, makes it impossible to ignore how turned on he is by the wolf’s actions. And Peter is far more wolf than man right now, his face twisted and sprouting fur even as his tongue keeps laving at Chris, his nose nudging the hunter’s balls out of the way to get at his hole. 

Claws dig into his hips hard enough to draw blood as Peter grabs for him again, flips him over with superhuman ease and knocking the breath out of him. Chris gasps, cheek pressed against the cold floor, his wrist hurting from where it was twisted around his body in an unnatural angle. He doesn't think it's broken, but the pain is enough to rein in his arousal a little, more so than the rumble edging into a growl behind him. 

Those same hands yank his hips up until he’s got his ass in the air like he’s _presenting_ , the cold air of the cell sending a shiver through him as it hits his spit-slick flesh. Peter takes it as an encouragement nosing forward again, long tongue lapping at the blood on Chris’ thighs before zeroing in on his hole again. Chris hopes that the lube is silicone before he closes his eyes and concentrates hard on not making another sound, not spreading his thighs any wider, not pushing back on Peter’s mouth. 

He knows Peter can smell everything even in his state, _especially_ in this state, the mixture of fear and arousal and - everything else that’s pouring off Chris’ skin with every frantic beat of his heart, the deafening roar of blood in his ears almost enough to cover the animal noises Peter makes as he nuzzles Chris’ balls, his fangs so close, the hair scraping the sensitive skin. 

Peter whines again and Chris knows this is going to be it; there’s a sound of cloth tearing, of more blood in the air and Chris knows Peter’s hurt himself in his effort to get out of what remains of his jeans, in his urge to mount and _breed._

 

The wolf moves fast and Chris lurches forward again, breath expelled from his lungs as Peter drapes himself over the hunter, broad arms bracketing Chris’ shoulders. Peter’s hips hunch forward and Chris can feel the heat and weight of the wolf’s cock brushing against his ass as the wolf fucking _humps_ forward, hot saliva dripping down on Chris’ shoulder. Peter runs hot, hotter than a human. Chris feels like the heat is going to eat him alive, subsume him, it prickles over his bare skin like - no, not heat. 

Fur. 

The realization that Peter is shifting further makes Chris’ blood run cold even as fangs scrape against his shoulder, almost sinking in. His traitorous cock doesn’t wilt, only throbs harder where it’s curved against his belly, something Chris tries to push aside for now, tries to not think about as the sound of joints breaking and regrowing and Peter’s growls becoming more canine fill the air. 

He hadn’t known Peter had the full shift, doesn't think Peter does have it. This had to be some other effect of the cocktail of wolfsbane and poison that‘s coursing through Peter, causing him to try to mount Chris like a feral beast. 

“Peter - “ Chris is surprised by how wrecked his own voice sounds.

Peter huffs, his breath a furnace blast against the back of Chris neck, and more drool drips down to coat Chris’ skin. But there’s no moment of recognition, no moment of reconsideration and Peter's hips buck forward, his slick cock searching for entrance. 

Chris hisses when the tip catches on his hole but doesn’t go in, tugging painfully at the rim. He tries to wiggle, tries to - he doesn’t know what he’s trying to do, but even as a wolf, Peter is heavy and it’s like fighting a lead blanket, trying to move underneath the wolf, every movement making him that much more aware of the fur and claws wrapped around him. 

Peter snarls and surges forward, jaws locking around the back of Chris’ neck and Chris stills, fighting against the urge to tense, to struggle. The sharp fangs pierce his skin minutely, drawing blood and he wills himself to go limp, to let his shoulders sag to the floor as Peter pushes his head down and whines, tongue lapping at the sluggishly bleeding marks. 

Chris tries not to wince as the tip tugs and pulls away again, reminding himself that it’s _Peter,_ that he _knows_ the man inside the wolf and this is not a mindless beast rutting against him, trying to force it’s way through. Peter is still in there, and even though Chris knows he can’t get through to him, he knows he can get through this. 

When the tip finally catches and Peter surges forward, cleaving his way into Chris’ body, the sound that escapes the hunter is closer to a yowl than a groan. It burns, the little stretch he’d managed earlier nowhere near enough, the saliva barely easing the way but he isn’t torn, he thinks hazily, he can take it - 

Chris _howls_ when Peter’s hips hunch down, hard and fast, the wolf’s cock brushing against the spot inside the hunter that has him seeing stars, has his dick grow harder and leak a bead of precome he can feel trickling down the shaft. 

The scent of Chris’ arousal seems to urge Peter on; the wolf huffs and jerks forward, starts hammering into Chris and seeking his own release. Chris squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ignore the sensations of fur and hot breath, tries to concentrate on _Peter._

Peter is growling continuously, his thrusts powerful enough that Chris is sliding forward, his position shifts enough have his arm come unpinned, have a hand free to brace himself, to push back. 

When Peter’s cock starts tugging at his rim with each thrust, stretching him further, panic starts welling up inside Chris again. He should have expected, should have known that this was going to happen, that Peter wouldn't just fuck him. Peter in this form would _knot_ him, lock himself inside Chris like a bitch in heat, fill him with come. 

The heat and the stretch is indescribable, nothing like he’s ever felt before, not even when he’d had a fist inside him - he shoves the thought aside quickly, unwilling to taint her memory like this, to compare his marriage bed to being rutted by an animal, no, _Peter._

Another shuddering thrust of Peter’s hips and the knot catches, the wolf’s fur rubbing the backs of Chris’ thighs raw with every aborted thrust. He can feel the knot pulsing in his ass, feel it spreading him open, and it feels _so good_. Chris’ cheeks are burning with it, his neglected cock aching with need, precome dripping form the head and pooling beneath him, sticky and sharp as Peter’s knot rubs against his prostate. Chris isn’t thinking when he gets a hand under his body, hissing when he wraps his palm around the head of his leaking cock.

Something about the change in position spurs Peter on, the wolf roars, hips surging forward to slam into Chris one more time and the knot seems to swell impossibly large, drawing a moan from Chris as his body tries to clamp down, stop the hot rush of seed but it’s too much, it’s - 

Chris comes with a cry, pulsing into his own hand as Peter’s teeth sink into his neck. 

Peter collapses on him, panting hard even before the aftershocks have fully worn off. Chris does not whimper when the knot tugs at him, or when the big, broad tongue starts lapping at the bite marks on his neck affectionately. Chris has no idea how long it is going to take for the knot to go down, how long he’s gonna be trapped like this. If it is going to be minutes, or hours. 

There's a fresh pulse of heat inside him and Peter whines, bucking against Chris. Chris groans and his dick twitches valiantly, but even with the pressure against his prostate, he’s not young any more, there’s no way he can go again like this, doesn’t _want_ to, not when he knows on the other side of the door there’s - 

Chris hisses when Peter’s knot pops free, only slightly deflated. It burns when it slides out, followed by a flood of hot fluid, stinging against the rubbed-raw backs of his thighs. Peter whines again, but he sounds different less distressed, more confused. 

There is a ripple in the air, again the sound of bones crunching and rearranging under skin and suddenly it’s not a wolf draped across his back, but a man. 

“C-Chris?” Peter’s voice is hoarse, the words halted. 

Before Chris can reply, there’s a shout from the other side of the door and the sound of a gunshot, followed by the unmistakable roar of a true alpha. Something - someone - slams into the door leaving a visible dent, before the door is forcibly removed from its hinges. 

It’s Scott who looks in, his eyes widening as he stops at the doorway. Thank God for small mercies, Allison is not with him - it’s Stiles who looks over Scott’s shoulder and snorts.

“Wow, can’t you two keep your hands off each other for five minutes?” Stiles turns and raises his voice. “Ally! We found your dad and his boyfriend in a compromising position, don’t come look!” 

Chris closes his eyes when he hears Allison’s familiar footsteps. He’s too fucking exhausted and sore to move, to try to dislodge Peter for the sake of modesty. He’s so close to passing out, he barely hears Allison's exasperated “ _Again!?”_

**Author's Note:**

> \- Chris is tossed into a cell with a feral, drugged up Peter and makes the choice to o along rather than fight, and even though he enjoys it he's not fully consenting 
> 
> \- Peter is drugged out of his gourd, feral and non-verbal, going into full shift to ffuck and knot Chris 
> 
> \- Established relationship, but they do not get a chance to discuss the situation at any point


End file.
